Three hours earlier.
Eun-woo sat on the terrace, quietly watching the raindrops fall, when he suddenly burst out laughing. He had just remembered the drenched woman from a few days ago, the one caught in the rain on this very terrace.
This region, surrounded by mountains and humidity, experienced frequent rain. It wasn’t unusual for it to pour even from a clear sky. At first, Eun-woo had found the unpredictable weather irritating—but the scenery was beautiful. On rainy days, the thick mist that hovered above the ground gave the place an enchanting atmosphere. Over time, it became oddly charming.
The silence. The absence of people looking for him.
After years of constant noise and attention, Eun-woo appreciated this peace. That’s why he spent half his days wasting time out here on the terrace.
If only that neighbor woman weren’t around, it would’ve been perfect.
But a few days ago, returning from an errand, he’d noticed a package left in front of her house. For a second, he’d considered getting even—but he wasn’t about to stoop that low.
Instead, he found himself repeating the woman’s name, the one printed on the package.
It was the name of his least favorite season.
“Of all names… it had to be Gyeo-wool.”
He didn’t like it.
Eun-woo glanced sideways at the woman’s terrace, which had unexpectedly turned into a decent little garden. He clicked his tongue.
The location, the view, the serenity—he had liked everything about this house. But now, just as he was at his wit’s end over his disappearing deliveries, it turned out the culprit was the woman next door.
What a strange woman.
“Why steal someone else’s packages?”
He felt helpless, with the thief standing right there, and no way to act on it. After all, he was a fugitive too. He couldn’t afford to make things bigger than they already were.
She got caught red-handed. She’ll probably lay low for a while.
“Are you… a celebrity?”
That innocent voice popped into his mind. It was her voice, from about a week ago.
He let out a quiet scoff.
“What? Are you a celebrity?”
The way she asked it—like she was doing him a favor—irked him.
“Come on. You’re Korean, how do you not recognize me?”
He had even shaken his coffee cup at her, practically handing her clues.
The more he thought about that humiliating moment, the hotter his chest burned.
“Or… maybe she really didn’t recognize me?”
Now that he thought about it, there had been something different in her eyes. Innocent, wide, almost deer-like.
“Maybe she actually had no idea.”
Back when he was active, daily grooming and makeup were part of his routine.
Now, as he brushed his cheek with his hand, it felt a bit rougher than usual. A sudden wave of anxiety hit him. Eun-woo quickly grabbed his phone and opened the camera. He tilted his head, inspecting his reflection from different angles.
“Still decent-looking.”
But suddenly, the whole thing felt pointless. He tossed the phone onto the table with a dull thud. With a deep sigh, he leaned back and closed his eyes.
At times, it felt like a dream—that the public loved their music, that people actually cared.
Other times, the weight of it all crushed him.
Do I really deserve this much love?
Even my own parents abandoned me.
Then he let out a short laugh.
What a useless thought.
There was nowhere to go but down now.
The public? Predictable. They always were.
It was all his fault. No room for excuses.
A bitter smile spread across his lips just as the phone on the table started vibrating loudly.
― Jun-oh hyung.
Eun-woo checked the caller ID and let out an annoyed sigh. Without answering, he closed the phone and pulled his cap over his face to block his vision. Legs folded on the table, he dozed off.
He must have drifted into a dream.
The fog cleared, lights bright and dazzling. People huddled around, whispering.
“Alright, cut.”
As the director’s voice rang from the megaphone, Eun-woo sat in his makeup chair for touch-ups. Then, through the busy crowd, he saw her—a woman with long hair, standing still.
The moment their eyes met, everything went black.
His head spun. He knew it was a dream, but the terrifying figure kept drawing closer. Eun-woo wanted to move, to scream, but it felt like he was paralyzed—pinned to the chair, completely immobile.
Sweat beaded down his neck.
The shadow of the woman crept right up to his face.
At that moment, his phone buzzed, slid off the table, and hit his knee—jerking him awake.
“Haah…”
His white t-shirt was drenched in sweat.
Still catching his breath, he staggered into the house and reached for the medicine in his nightstand drawer. He threw a pill into his mouth—emergency medication for panic attacks.
Several minutes passed. He gradually calmed down. Wiping the moisture from his forehead with his sleeve, he walked to the front door.
Someone was ringing the doorbell and knocking, making the living room echo with noise.
“For god’s sake, who is it now?”
Running a hand through his hair in frustration, he checked the intercom—and his brows furrowed.
It was his manager, Yoo Jun-oh.
“Jun-oh hyung? Wait—how did he even find this place?”
Panicked, Eun-woo started pacing and biting his nails. Jun-oh knocked again, impatiently.
[It’s me. Open up, let’s talk face-to-face. Please?]
“Is the soundproofing this bad, or is his voice just that loud?”
THUMP THUMP THUMP.
Jun-oh kept alternating between knocks and the doorbell.
[You can’t just hide like this. You really wanna throw your whole career away?]
Definitely the latter. His voice echoed through the whole building.
[Eun-woo, please. Seon Eun-woo!]
“Great. Might as well announce I live here, huh?”
Muttering under his breath, Eun-woo fell silent, remembering the moment from a week ago when he waved coffee in front of Gyeo-wool’s face.
Not like I’m in any position to judge.
He watched Jun-oh closely through the intercom. When the manager finally walked away, talking on the phone, Eun-woo shut the monitor off.
He’s gone, right?
Cautiously approaching the door, Eun-woo peered through the peephole. Empty.
Only then did he head to the bathroom, scrubbing the sweat from his skin with cold water.
The chill snapped his mind back into place.
“So much for acting like she wouldn’t even haunt my dreams.”
The woman’s terrifying face from the nightmare resurfaced in his mind, making him scowl as he turned off the faucet.
Freshly dressed, he stepped back onto the terrace to retrieve his phone.
THUMP THUMP THUMP.
Another knock.
Frowning, he stomped to the intercom.
“Oh come on. You’re still here?”
Jun-oh stood there with a grave expression. Eun-woo instinctively stepped back.
[I know you’re in there. This is your last chance. If you come with me now, the CEO said he’ll let it slide. So please… please, Eun-woo, come with me. I’m begging you.]
As Jun-oh’s voice wavered, close to tears, Eun-woo sighed—just as he heard another person outside.
[Package delivery.]
[Ah, is this for this house?]
[Yes.]
No way. Don’t tell me…
[You’re still ordering stuff under my name? Wait a minute…]
Standing frozen by the door, Eun-woo’s stomach twisted.
[Think the passcode’s still the same?]
Without even thinking, Eun-woo sprinted toward the terrace.
“Shit.”
BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.
Cursing under his breath, he flung open the terrace door.
BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.
He snatched his cap from the floor and jammed it onto his head.
BEEP. BEEP.
And with every ounce of strength, he leapt over the railing into the neighbor’s terrace.
BEEP. DING!
As the final number unlocked the front door, his eyes met hers—Gyeo-wool—through the open terrace door.
__________⋆ 𖤓 ⊹₊˚࿔ ❄︎ᝰ.________
“It’s me.”
“Just stay like this for a moment.”
His whisper was laced with the scent of fresh cologne.
Once she realized who it was, her frantic heart began to slow.
– “You really thought you’d be safe hiding here?”
His voice carried faintly into her house from his own, thanks to the open terrace door.
It was the same voice she had heard pounding on his door just moments ago.
Gyeo-wool glanced down, realizing his hand still covered her mouth. He was barefoot—must’ve run over in a panic.
She could have screamed. She should have. But she didn’t.
She didn’t know why a once-famous actor had come all the way to a rural village like this.
But somehow, seeing him in such a desperate state—leaping across terraces barefoot—it stirred something ridiculous in her.
Pity.
Just this once, I’ll let it slide, she told herself.
– “Not home? But they said he’d be here…”
His voice trailed off as he turned away.
Gyeo-wool heard the faint murmur of a phone call and the front door closing.
Only then did the man lift his hand from her mouth.
She quickly ran to the terrace and shut the door, then turned to him with a voice full of restrained anger.
“You scared me! What do you think you’re doing?”
Even in a whisper, the fury was clear.
Pity or not, he had crossed the line.
“This is a crime. It’s trespassing!”
While Gyeo-wool fumed, Eun-woo calmly dusted off his shirt sleeve like nothing happened.
“Let’s call it even for you stealing my package.”
